You're not alone A johnlock story Part 1
by CaptainOfToast
Summary: John has trouble getting over sherlock's 'death'.. Lestrade is helping john out though it, and john's mind is playing tricks on him. Or is it?
1. Aftermath

"He's gone, john. You need to understand that."

Lestrade had came over to john's flat, to try and convince him to go outside. He had informed john it had been two weeks since sherlock's funural. Since then, john haddn't left once, - Ms. Hudson got his shopping so he didn't starve. Which was pointless because john barley even ate much anymore, anyway. He had let himself go since sherlocks death and people began to worry.

John wasn't even sure why lestrade was here. They haddn't been good friends before, and now he was acting like his therapist. Mycroft had also been over to visit. But he only came to apologise for what he had done. John would ignore him, - sorry wasn't going to bring his best friend back.

Mycroft haddn't said anything about sherlock when he visited, - he just wanted john to act more alive because 'it's not what sherlock would want'.. he had finally snapped saying, 'what do you care about sherlock anyway?' Mycroft had got up and left but not before he said, 'You meant more than anything to him, john. Just remember that..'

John blinked, bringing himself back to the flat. Lestrade was still drinking tea and staring at him.

"It's not fair." John finally said, which took lestrade by surprise. It was the first time in a while john had spoke to anyone. His voice was quiet.

"I know, john." Lestrade said, "But this isn't good for you.. You can't do this to yourself. He's gone."

"Stop saying that." John told him, looking down at his own untouched tea, "Just stop."

Lestrade looked down as well, then back up. He didn't know how to convince john to do anything he didn't want to do. He couldn't imagine the pain john was going through. But john was feeling more then pain.. - he felt abbandoned. Sherlock had died and left him alone. Alone is something john didn't like to feel, and sherlock knew that.

He had to have a reason for doing what he did.. John was sure of it. He just wished sherlock was here to tell what. Maybe he could find out himself. But Moriarity was dead, and mycroft insisted moriarity didn't tell him anything.

"Just come outside." Lestrade said, "You need the air."

"What would I do out there.." John asked, with a depressing voice he haddn't intented on using.

"You just need to get out." Lestrade told him, "What else would you do?"

John knew exactly what he would do. Shame he didn't have a gun on him, and ms. hudson had taken all the knives about a week and a half ago. The hole in his heart would never go away, nor would the pain, no matter what he did. He wanted sherlock.. needed sherlock. He was losing himself without him. John put his head into his hands and tried not to start crying again. He didn't want lestrade to see him cry, nor anderson who he just noticed was standing quietly be the door.

"And why are you here?" John asked.

Anderson didn't respond at first. He uncrossed is arms, sighed and put his hands in his pockets,

"I just came with Lestrade."

"Yeah." John said, "Because we all know you didn't like sherlock at all."

"True." Anderson said quietly, "But that doesn't mean I didn't respect him."

Those words surprised john. If anderson respected sherlock, he sure as hell didn't act like it when he was around. Lestrade shot anderson a look, and he looked down at the floor. Lestrade looked back over to john.

"You'd be surprised at who actually respected him."

"What about sally?"

Lestrade tried not to smile, "I didn't say everyone."

John sighed and looked to his right. Sherlock's violin was still sitting in it's spot, covered in dust. John haddn't touched it since his friends death, nor would he let anyone else touch it. He almost ripped off mycroft's hand.

"John." Lestrade said, "How about this. Come with us, and we'll let you see sherlock's things.."

This got john's attention, "Really?"

"Why not." Anderson said, "Not like he needs them anymore."

John forced himself not to get up and punch anderson in the face. He calmly ignored him and looked at lestrade.

"Yeah." He told john,

Two minutes later, they all walked out the door of the flat. The sky was cloudly, so there was no sudden beam of sun. Still, it hurt his eyes some. Lestrade brought out his keys, and started up the engine to his car. John smiled innocently at anderson who asked,

"What?"

John punched his square in the nose, which instantly became bloody. He watched as anderson staggered back, and when he regained his posture, didn't even say anything remotley rude to john.

"I guess I deserved that." Anderson said

"You did, yeah."

Lestrade told them both to get in the car, not even asking about what happened to anderson when he got in passenger. John put his hand on the handle, but looked up and froze. There was someone at the end of the block, standing there watching. He was wearing a trench coat, black pants, plack shoes and for a second john almost thought it was.. No. He blinked hard, and when he looked back again, he was gone.

Just your mind playing tricks. John told himself, Just your mind playing tricks. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and got in the car.

/

(Does it suck? I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway.. Yeah.. It's my first johnlock story and i'm sorry if It wasn't good. But I'm going to continue anyway, because i'm a boss.)


	2. Still too long

**Months later...**

Sherlock still had the key to 221B.

_"Well this is a prime spot. Must be expensive." John had said_

_"Mrs. Hudson, the landlady is giving me a special deal. She owes me a favor." Sherlock had told him._

He never got rid of the key, knowing one day he'd return. Today wasn't the day, but he saw john leaving for another therapist appointment, so he decided he'd look into the flat. Mrs. Hudson had left earlier and wouldn't be back for a while. Sherlock put the key in the slot and turned it, the door opened. Sherlock stepped inside, closing the door behind him. As he walked up the stairs, his phone rang off.

_How long are you going to keep doing this? - MH_

Sherlock sighed to himself. Of course Mycroft knew where he was, - he had people all over the place.

_Untill I decide it's time to come back. - SH_

_You're killing him, sherlock. The longer you wait, the harder it's going to be for the both of you. - MH_

Sherlock held the phone in his hand untill he opened the door to the flat. Nothing major was diffrent. The furniture had been slightly moved, everything had been cleaned up, - the flat looked tidy now. On the desk, sat his violin. Untouched and dusty. He walked over and looked at it. It had been so long since he had played it, and he wanted very much to play it again, but john would see that it had been moved.

But taking his own phone was a risky move. John must've noticed it by now, - that sherlocks phone was missing. And he had, because he had received a text every few days from john, trying to get a response.

_I miss you sherlock. Why'd you have to go? - JW_

_If you come back, I promise I won't care if you play your violin.. - JW_

_You're dead. Why do I keep doing this? What's wrong with me, sherlock? - JW_

Sherlock still didn't know why he had come. He couldn't take anything. Couldn't leave anything. Couldn't wait for john to come home. And he couldn't leave. John's text distracted him from his thoughts,

_I forgot to metion.. I punched anderson in the face, not too long ago. You're probally proud of me, huh? - JW_

Sherlock smiled to himself. The urge to text john back was getting stronger, but he knew he couldn't. He was supposed to be dead. Dead men don't text. He knew he was hurting john, but he was also protecting him. He forced himself to go back down the stairs, with one last look of the flat. He pulled out his phone.

_We need to talk again, mycroft. - SH_

John stared at his phone, shortly after he texted sherlock. He was stupid for thinking sherlock would text back. Stupid. Stupid. He put his phone back in his pocket and rested his head on the seat. Some of the last words john and sherlock ever said to eachother rang around in his head.

_"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly, in fact tell anyone who will listen to you... that I created Moriarty for my own purposes_." _Sherlock had told john before he jumped._

_John then told him, "Ok, shut up Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met - the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?"_

_"No body could be that clever."_

_"You could."_

John focused on the road, not letting his thoughts distract him. But try as he might, his brain betrayed him.

_"You … you told me once … that you weren't a hero. There were times when I didn't even think you were human, but let me tell you this. You were the best man, the most human ... human being that I've ever known and no one will ever convince me that you_ _told me a lie, and so_ _... "_

John's mind flashed back to the first time he had visited sherlock's grave. He haddn't been there since.

_"I was so alone ... and I owe you so much."_

John shut his eyes.

_"But please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle , Sherlock, for me, don't be ... dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this…"_

It had now been a year..

He checked everyday. He checked to see if sherlock returned. If he was outside, see if his violin had moved, his scarf hanging on the rack, footsteps other than his own.. He wanted sherlock back, and hoped he would. He didn't. He never did. For the first month after sherlocks death, john managed to convince himself that it was all a dream. Just a bad dream. Five months, people started to notice. John should've gotten better, no one grieved for that long. Lestrade kept visiting, trying to get him to do something. He didn't give up on john like most people would. Seven months, john had tried to kill himself. Mrs. Husdon has stopped him though, talked him out of it.

A year later, john did his best to move on. Even though he still sent about one text a week to sherlock's phone, - still no reply, - sherlock has almost left his mind completley. Almost. It was time, so john thought, to go back to the grave.

For one last time.


End file.
